The Phoenix
by emovampiregirl
Summary: Can Micheal save Phoenix from herself, or is it all hopeless? Especially when the school finds out where they are.
1. Intro: The Man in the Woods

The sun was hidden behind a mass of black clouds, the wind howled around me, and my tears froze to my cheeks. The knife in my hand felt cold and heavy as I stared at it, contemplating what i would do next. Did I realy want to die enoguh to cut north and south, or would I chicken out and cut east and west? Would I even be able to cut myself at all? Would anybody notice, or even care, that I'm gone? Hell, did any of that even matter?!

Tears kept falling, even though I had thought that I cried myself dry hours ago. I could no longer feel my fingers or toes, and my body was beginning to compulse from all the shivering I was doing.

"Does it even matter?" I whispered out loud, finally at my breaking point. My mind had finally had enough. "Is life even worth all of this?" I pressed the blade against my wrist and began to slide it along my vein, north and south. I wanted to die, that much I had come to realize. Blood poured down my wrist and tainted the pure white snow around my body. Stopping what I was doing I lay down to bleed out, not once noticing the boy hiding behind the tree.

As I lie there to die he stepped into my line of sight. I turned my head to see him more clearyl. He had to have been my age or a year older, his shaggy, jet black hair was cut so that it fell across his face and covered his eyes. He looked at me curiously, and then seemed to notice all the blood.

He rushed over to me, tearing off his scarf and ripping off the hem of his shirt. It took me a moment to realize that he was trying to make a turniquette. "No," I whispered, trying to find my voice, then giving up when I realized that I was too far gone.

"Why the hell would you do this?" He screamed at me in a whipser. I felt soem pressure being applied to my arm, but what I really noticed was that I felt all fuzzy inside. "Oh, God! Please don't die!" But I couldn't hear him anymore. I was gone, slipping into blackness.  
'Please, let me be dead. Please.'


	2. Chapter 1: One Hell of a Surprise

When I awoke it was still dark. The air aound me was cool and smelled of lavender and vanilla. My body was strewn across a staw pallet, and a searing pain went through my wrist. I glanced down at my left wrist from the corner of my eyes and saw that it was wrapped tightly in bandages, and judging by the intense heat of pain, I would guess that whoever had wrapped my arm had also had to give me stitches.

I turned onto my right side to avoid jostling my left wrist or rolling over ontop of it. It was silent, except for my quiet breathing and the spasmodic clicks of the crickets outside. I couldn't stop myself from wondering who had stopped me from dieing, who the person in the woods had been. Who would care enough to save a complete stranger? Or was it all just a mistake?

A knock on the door drew me out of my reverie. I glanced up without moving my head to see who was entering the room. As soon as I saw him, I was immediately filled with shame. He had seen me at my worst possible moment. He had had my blood all over his hands. I quickly looked down, mortification taking over my body. I could feel the heat riding in my cheeks. Nut he said nothing, simply walked over to the side of my pallet and sat down facing me.

He gingerly picked up my injured wrist and began to unwrap it. The stinging sensation only worsened and I couldn't hold beack a twitch of pain. That didn't go unnoticed by my new caregiver. I heard him take in a sharp breath and I was about to apologize when he quielty whispered, "Sorry."

I was flabbergasted. Here I was intruding on him in his own home, and he was apologizing to me. I was too blown away to tell him that it was insane to apologize to _me_. But I did notice that he was even more careful with my injured wrist after that.

"I had to stitch it up," he explained in a deep, mellow voice. He inclined his head at my wrist, and I saw the damage. I was proud that I was able to do that to myself. "You lost a lot of blood. You scared me." I blanched. How could I have scared him. He doesn't even know me!

"Why did you even bother?" I could have slapped myself. I always had a problem with word vomit. But I couldn't deny that the question had been lingering on the tip of my tongue since I had woken up.

He didn't answer at first, and I was afraid that I had offended him. "I guess I never once stopped to think about what I was doing." He paused for a moment, his face took on a look of concentration, and then continued after a moment of silence. "I saw you crying and I wanted to help. THen you took out a knife. scared me then too. I don't know why I waited to stop you, I guess I was hoping that you would stop yourself from doing it, but you didn't. Then you just began cutting." He paused again and my shame only grew. "Then you just sat there and kept whispereing something over and over again, and I froze. When you fell I was able to snap out of it, and i tried to stop the bleeding.

"There was so much blood, but you were smiling and laughing. You kept saying that it was finally over." I twinged, guilt racked my body. "Then when I tried to help you you said 'No' and told me to let you die. When you passed out I nearly gave up. But I was able to get you back to my house. I had to take off your sweater to stitch up your wrist. You dind't have anything but a tank top on underneath...and well...I saw your..."

'Oh no, please no! Don't tell me he saw those!!' I felt like screaming. Nobody head ever seen that part of my body before. "What did you see?" I asked in a barely audible whisper.

Looking up at his face I saw him blush a brilliant, crimsom red. "They were very beautiful."

"What did you see?" I asked again, only this time more fiercely.

He visibly twitched and my gut dropped. I could see his stress level rise as he tried to think of a way to make it sound better. To make me feel better about it. By now I had a pretty good idea of wht he was about to say, and I wanted to die...again.

"I want to let you know that it's not your fault," I said softly.

He looked down at me, his dark eyes were soft and sympathetic. "I saw your back." He froze, but decided to add, "I saw your wings."


	3. Bulletin

I am deeply sorry to anyone who has been reading this. My dad just died so I am going to try to continue writing but I don't know how long it will be. Again, I am very sorry.


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